Labyrinth
by Kroontjespen
Summary: The mind of a prodigy is a scary thing. Hermione Granger's however is downright terrifying. AU. Slytherin!Hermione, Slytherin!Harry
1. Chapter 1

**Before reading this I will tell you one thing, this is an Alternate Universe and because of this I have taken a liberty with several characters and as for such they might appear OOC. If you do not like this, don't read it and then whine about it in reviews.**

**And then to clear a few things up:**  
**Harry and Hermione will both be a bit dark, smart (Hermione being _incredibly _so) and powerful but they won't necessarily be evil.**  
**Dumbledore will be portrayed in the way I see him to be, which is manipulative.**

**So, remember people, this is an Alternate Universe and several characters are slightly insane, twisted, fickle and/or a mix of all.  
Enjoy.**

* * *

**Labyrinth**

_The mind of a prodigy is a scary thing. Hermione Granger's however is downright __**terrifying**__.  
AU. Slytherin!Hermione, Slytherin!Harry  
_

**Chapter One**

**Setting the stage**

"I hate them," 9 year old Hermione Granger whispered as she stared down at the puddle her book was lying in. Pages were torn, crude words written on the cover before the book was thrown in the shallow water.

Hermione balled her shaking hands into fists, her shoulders trembling with silent sobs as she bit her lip to keep herself from crying. She ignored the drips of rain leaking down from the grey clouds above her as she watched the rain soaking whatever dry pages there were left in a matter of seconds. The rain was pouring down now, thick drops of water that stuck to her bushy brown hair and seeped into her uniform. She was shaking now, the cold, anger and sadness mixing in a way that made her want to throw herself to the ground and simultaneously cry and scream whilst pounding her limbs on the ground like a child.

"I hate them," she repeated as she rose her head slightly, drops of water sliding down her forehead into her brown eyes, making her vision blurry.

She could vividly remember all the times _they_ had bullied her, tripped her up, pulled her hair or called her names. She remembered the stuff they had stolen from her, how they'd whisper behind her back and ignored her when she talked. She couldn't even begin to count the times she'd cried over them, or the times the teacher got mad and tried to reign the bullies in. Her parents couldn't stop them, the teachers couldn't stop them, _nothing _could stop them.

"I _hate _them!" Hermione screamed to the sky, her voice carrying over the empty playground with ease. She swore could feel the ground shaking along with her body and let out another angry scream.

"Never again," she said as she rose her chin slightly like her mother always told her to do. "_Never_ again!" she repeated strongly. She could feel something _burning _inside her, a blazing inferno that spread across her body like lightning and left a tingling sensation once it passed. She felt better now, for just a split second she truly felt _superior_. To them, the bullies, and for an even shorter moment she felt as if she could take on the whole world and come out unscathed. Her mind was racing then, coming up with and dismissing ideas in an amazingly fast way as she vowed to keep the promise she'd shouted at the sky, never again. Never again would she be weak, never again would she allow herself to be bullied, never again would _anyone _hurt her. _I'll stop them_, she swore, _I'll show them._

Hermione then walked away, chin still raised and a slightly scary look in her eyes as she left the playground and started the short trek home.

She never noticed the web of deep cracks that connected at a particular spot on the playground that most certainly weren't there the day before.

oOoOoOo

"Hey beaver, what have you got there?" Shirley asked as she leant over Hermione's desk, "ooh! Another book!"

Hermione stared up at the pigtailed girl with an angry frown, "don't touch it."

"And what would you do if I did? You're just an ugly bookworm." Shirley sneered as she flipped her hair back dramatically like she always saw her older sister do before grabbing the book and holding it in the air. "Look what I found guys! Beaver's got another-"

"Don't. Touch. My. Stuff." Hermione hissed angrily as she grabbed the girl's free wrist and glared up at her.

Shirley was about to retort with another nasty comment when sharp bolts of pain travelled up her wrist and she bit her lip from crying out in pain when it felt as if her wrist was about to break. "Fine, have your stupid book," she muttered in defeat as she dropped the book back on Hermione's desk with a nonchalant hand gesture. Shirley nearly sighed in relief when Hermione let go of her wrist and she quickly hightailed to the other side of the room, cradling her wrist to her body.

Two days later Shirley Palmer was found to have a few hairline-fractures in her wrist bone and could only say "I don't know" when asked how she got them, too afraid to tell the truth.

oOoOoOo

"What are you doing here?" Hermione inquired as she stared at a messily haired, pale boy that suddenly sat in the shadowy spot next to one of the towering bookcases.

"Hiding," he replied shortly as he stared warily out of the window of the library.

Hermione followed his gaze and saw one overweight blonde boy and two tinier boys walking down the street, occasionally stopping to peer behind bushes or kick at trashcans.

"I could …" Her voice trailed off at the end as she gestured at the boys.

The boy shook his head vehemently, messy black hair flying around and showing Hermione a glimpse of an oddly shaped scar.

"Your loss," she shrugged before holding out her hand, "I'm Hermione Granger by the way, pleased to meet you."

"My name's Harry," the boy mumbled shyly as he shook her hand quickly, "Harry Potter."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully and shot another look at the window, the boys were gone and the street empty again. She then directed her gaze back at the boy in front of her as the cogs in her head started working again and ideas rapidly formed in her head. She had seen the way he appeared _out of nowhere_ because she could do the very same.

"Tell me Harry, do you like books?" Hermione asked with a toothy smile as she picked one of her books out of her messenger bag.

At Harry's unsure nod Hermione's smile became beatific as she beamed at him, "Marvellous! This will be the beginning of something _beautiful_."

oOoOoOo

It was indeed the beginning of something not necessarily beautiful but rather something _good_. They met in the Surrey Library every week, Hermione taking the bus from Camberley every Saturday and Harry just walking. She helped him improve his atrocious penmanship and find a wondrous world in books of every kind. He helped her change her opinions on other children her age, or rather, he made her make an _exception _for him. Hermione more than once told him that he was the _only one _near her age that she could stand for longer periods of time and thus was an exception. He wasn't as intelligent as her, not by a long shot, but he was swiftly coming along. They met at the old library and sat in dusty chairs, doing nothing but talking and reading.

Harry didn't comment on how Dudley came home crying one Saturday when he was forbidden to go to the library for being a no-good freak and _suddenly _got permission to go again. He ignored the way Dudley flinched when looking at books and how the obese boy always made an effort to evade the Surrey Library and would rub his shoulder whenever it was mentioned. He kept silent when he saw his friend get the look in her eyes that promised another change in his life, such as how he suddenly got a _real _bedroom when Dudley came home with his arm in a cast. He never said a word of how sometimes she'd seem as if she wanted the world nor of the way a cold fire seemed to ignite inside her at the mere mention of bullies.

Hermione didn't _comment_ on his home situation, his cast-off clothes or his messy hair nor did she try to give him _charity_, that she _encouraged _Harry's obese uncle and horse-like aunt that a change was necessary was a completely different thing. She would pretend not to notice how his hair _never _seemed to grow longer or how he sometimes had books flying to his hand when he thought she wasn't watching. She never spoke of how he would know when she was in the library without them ever discussing a time to meet. Never did she speak of how he shied away from people bearing physical resemblances to his relatives, how he shied away in shadows like a thief and how utterly _clueless _he was about some _normal _things he never got to experience.

They kept each other's secrets and always had the other's back, never speaking of their problems and probably being each other's first friend. It was the kind of friendship only two definitely extraordinary children could share and they latched onto it like a parched man given a jug of water. What they shared was odd, inexplicable and _different_. It was as a happy thing but also as twisted as the human mind and yet as utterly breath-taking as the almighty roar of a waterfall, the golden rays of sunshine, breaking out of the clouds after a rainy day or the first look at a new born child.

And it was completely and utterly _theirs_.

oOoOoOo

"I assume you have read both the letter and the explanatory folders we sent you?" Minerva McGonagall asked as she took a sip of her tea and calmly sat on the padded armchair the Granger parents had pointed her to.

"We did," Martha Granger said from her position next to her husband on the couch, "and we think that you should talk to our daughter and convince _her _that this school of yours is the best there is."

"Indeed," the husband chimed in as he stared Minerva in the eye for a few seconds, "it is Hermione that needs to be won over. You'll find her in the third room on your right on the first floor."

And with that said Minerva McGonagall found herself standing in a spacious room with a bed, desk, chair and _one _padded armchair similar to the one she sat on in the living room. There was a tasteful dark green rug on the wooden floor and apart from the little furniture it was completely filled with bookshelves and books on every available surface. And in the one armchair, squeezed between two big shelves packed with books, sat the Granger's daughter, Hermione.

Minerva coughed once to alert the girl to her presence and found that the bushy haired brunette gave no visible reaction other than a bored look in her direction before her eyes flew over the pages again. "I am Minerva McGonagall," she began as she smoothed her maroon robes, "the representative of Hogwarts. Your parents have told you of Hogwarts, haven't they?"

Hermione nodded silently and kept on reading.

"Well, I am here to answer any questions you might have and … " her voice trailed off when she noticed the girl looking up for a second as she put her heavy book away and folded her hands primly on her knees.

"I have one, Mrs. McGonagall," Hermione began.

"Professor," Minerva interrupted sharply, "_Professor _McGonagall. I teach at Hogwarts as well."

"Professor McGonagall it is then," Hermione said as she stared at Minerva with a level gaze, "I have _one _question. Would you mind taking me to the place where I can purchase my books?"

Minerva McGonagall mentally shook her head and swore that this girl must have been the most Ravenclaw muggleborn she has ever met and quickly smiled at the girl. "Of course, if your parents permit me I will take you to Diagon Alley and we shall purchase everything you might need for school."

Minerva's smile grew even bigger upon seeing the look on the girl's face and cursed her luck that the girl was such an obvious Ravenclaw.

That the look on Hermione's face was in fact _not _one of happiness was something Minerva didn't quite catch.

In fact, it was the look of an emperor that had just been given a whole new world to conquer.

oOoOoOo

"Did you know that you are in books, Harry?" Hermione asked levelly, eyes never straying from the page of _Dark Arts through the ages_ as they sat in their secluded spot in the mostly empty Surrey Library.

"I am?" Harry asked, a bit bewildered as a faint surprise showed in his emerald-green eyes, "Which ones?"

Hermione furrowed her brow for a moment before replying, " The one I'm reading now, _The rise and fall of the Dark Arts, Most Notable Wizards of the 20__th__ century _and _Notable magical accomplishments_."

"Oh," Harry sighed as he looked down at _Proper etiquette for the respectable young witch and wizard _with a frown. "They hail me as a hero for being on the right place at the right time?"

"Apparently, you also have a few storybooks dedicated to your pre-Hogwarts adventures. If rumours are to be believed you have a harem of Veela and live in a floating castle. Oh, and you also own a pet unicorn for your children to play with," Hermione said with a straight face though Harry could see the amusement clearly in her eyes.

"You're serious," Harry muttered as he stared at her with horror, "I have _children_?"

"You have a _harem_, Harry, so of _course _you have children," Hermione explained in a condensing voice as she shot him a blank stare.

"And this is all _pre-_Hogwarts?"

"Yes Harry, so be prepared to disappoint a lot of people when you show up the way you are. Unless you _have _slain that evil warlock in Denmark, then you're on the good track."

"Bloody hell," Harry breathed as he stared back at his book.

"Don't use such language in front of a lady, Harry, it's inappropriate," Hermione said as she shot him a chilly glare.

Harry quickly shut up as he focused his eyes back on the book in front of him.

…

"Hermione," he whispered after a while.

"Yes, Harry?"

"You don't happen to have an unicorn I could borrow for a while, do you?"

"No."

"Oh, never mind then."

oOoOoOo

"I must commend you on your ability to conceal your identity," Hermione said formally in a dry tone as the Hogwarts Express started moving, the low grumble of the engine and the sound of the wheels filling the compartment.

"Thanks," Harry said as he placed the cage containing his owl, Hedwig, on his trunk.

"Though wearing a bowler hat is a bit .. _odd_."

"It was the only _muggle_ thing they had at Madame Makin's," Harry explained as he held the black bowler hat in front of him and regarded it with a slight pang of disgust before putting it on again.

Hermione hmm-ed noncommittally as she picked one of her books out of her own trunk and started reading again, Harry soon doing the same as they lapsed into a comfortable silence that was broken by the door of their compartment sliding open.

"I heard that Harry Potter is on this train!" a lanky redhead said loudly as he stared at Harry and Hermione with a slightly hysterical expression, "And your compartment is the last and I can't find him!"

Harry shot Hermione a look as if to say _'is he for real?' _while Hermione just stared at the boy with disgust plainly written across her features and a slight twitch of the eye when she noticed the smudge of dirt on the bridge of his freckle-covered nose.

"No, he isn't here," she said slowly, as if speaking to a child, "but I think I saw one of his _Veela _over there." She pointed to the hallway he just exited and saw hope lighting up the redhead's face.

"He brought his harem then?" the redhead squeaked excitably, as he looked back over his shoulder to see the empty hallway, "for real?"

"Of course he brought his harem," Hermione said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I even saw _Portia_," she added in a whisper.

"_Portia!_" the boy squeaked, voice reaching an ever higher pitch than before, "he brought his unicorn! Oh Merlin's Beard, I must find him!"

With that the boy stormed out of their compartment again, not even bothering to close the door behind him as he ran off.

"My unicorn is named _Portia_?" Harry asked with a grimace as he spat out the name.

"I'd be more concerned at the _daughter _you named _James _to honour your late father," Hermione explained as she stood up to close the door.

Harry swallowed the next words he wanted to say and went back to his book, occasionally muttering angrily about people turning him into some kind of sick fantasy hero and him being too young for children, let alone daughters named _James_.

"Harry," Hermione began.

"Yes?"

"You know I'd kill you if you ever were to name a daughter of yours James, yes?"

"I know, and thanks, by the way."

"You're welcome."

They remained like that for the remainder of the trip, sending the boy looking for a toad to the prefects compartment and telling the blonde that they saw Harry Potter walking somewhere near the front and that he probably just missed him on his way to them.

oOoOoOo

Hermione stared at the so called 'Sorting Hat' with a frown, annoyed at its singing talents and how her ears hurt thanks to it and yet marvelled at the fact that it was a talking and singing _hat_. She just hoped it wasn't as bad at sorting as it was at singing, or she just might be angry, so when her name went forward she walked up to the rickety old chair with a contemplative look in her eyes as she sat down.

_Oh dear_, a voice chimed through her head, _what have we got here?_

Hermione remained silent, hundreds of thoughts racing through her head as she gazed at the doors to the Great Hall.

_Smart, scarily so. Yes, Rowena would kill to have you, and a oh thirst for knowledge but then that ambition! Goodness girl, but you're so full of contradictions! _The voice whined, _But before I sort you I'll give you a piece of advice: Don't let yourself get killed. Dark times are coming and to survive you'll need the cunning of a " SLYTHERIN!"_

The last bit wasn't just a voice in her head, no, it rang out through the Great Hall and Hermione swore she saw surprise on professor McGonagall's face before she quickly made her way to the Slytherin table where she was met with thinly veiled sneers as they applauded shortly for her.

Hermione kept up a disinterested air around her as she watched the sorting, only when Harry's name was called did she lean forward eagerly, as did much of the other students. Whispers rang out and from the corner of her eye she saw the man she recognized to be Albus Dumbledore lean forward as well, a rather scary grin on his old face as he peered at the hat over his half-moon spectacles.

"SLYTHERIN!" the hat shouted after a minute or so had passed and suddenly the Great Hall turned silent.

And amongst the flabbergasted students Hermione stood up and slowly started clapping as Harry made his way over to her and she softly congratulated him as he sat down next to her. Only then did Hermione peek at the head table again and she frowned at what she saw, Albus Dumbledore was _angry_. His face was consorted into rage and his eyes were glaring furiously at Harry, his hands were gripping his wand rather tightly and in the blink of an eye it was gone. Albus Dumbledore went back to looking al grandfatherly and probably slightly insane as he grinned at all those around him.

_I need to watch him_, Hermione thought to herself as she recalled the _anger _behind the old man's gaze before she shot a look at Harry. They shared a smirk before waiting for the sorting to end.

* * *

**Thank you for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Once again I will post the Alternate Universe warning for anyone not quite getting it the first time.**

**A major thanks to all the wonderful reviews, follows and favourites I have recieved. It makes writing a lot more enjoyable to me when I get such appreciation for doing it. **

**To Guest, the one asking about Portia, sadly she is but a figment of imagination from a particularly crazy wizard (Perhaps, Xenophilius Lovegood?) that seemed to catch on. This does not mean that Ronald knows that though.**

**To Lament, more about Albus's motives will be explained later on but I hope this clears some of it up.**

**To an unknown, Harry does belong in Slytherin but has a whole different personality, background and mentality than Hermione. Hermione kind-off overshadows him sometimes, you'll see that backbone of his I promise.**

**I won't make a habit of answering reviews in this story, so this is most likely an one-time thing, but if any of you have questions you feel have to be answered please don't hesitate to ask.**

**So, to all those enoying the story, this is for you.**

* * *

**Labyrinth**

_The mind of a prodigy is a scary thing. Hermione Granger's however is downright _**_terrifying__._**  
_AU. Slytherin!Hermione, Slytherin!Harry_

_**Chapter Two**_

**Chess pieces**

"How is this possible?" Albus Dumbledore said miserably as he sagged in his chair, conjuring a glass of firewhisky with a wave of his hand.

Septima Vector raised her thin eyebrows as she leant forward over the table, resting her elbows on the finely polished wood as she watched Albus, "but Albus, surely it is not such a big problem? Perhaps the boy can change the public opinion of Slytherin? They are known as the house where You-Know-Who went to and as for such are seen as potential Death Eaters, sorry Severus."

"No harm done," Severus said as he inclined his head to the black-haired witch.

"I too was surprised at first," admitted Minerva McGonagall, "but surely he is his parents' son? Lily could have been a Slytherin for all her ambition and some of James' pranks were rather cunning. They were such lovely people, James was so chivalrous and Lily was such a sweet girl, Harry must have inherited some of that. He could be cunning and ambitious but he remains a child of two great, _good _ people."

Severus's eye seemed to twitch for a moment as his grip on the goblet of wine in his hand turned rather fierce, his knuckles white with the force he held on to the goblet.

"Yes," he forced out through gritted teeth as his black eyes stared at Minerva, "but ultimately they were_ Gryffindors_, not Slytherins. I'm rather glad the Potter spawn ended up in a more _noble _house than the house known for its blatant _stupidity_. And don't delude yourself into thinking James Potter was _chivalrous _of all things, the man was an arrogant bully and I'll be sure to wring out any such behaviour out of his progeny."

"How dare you!" Minerva bristled as she made move to rise from her chair, her hands itching towards the pocket of her robe to grab her wand.

"Enough!" Albus interfered, rising his free hand in a stopping motion as he placed his glass of firewhisky on the table, "Minerva, Severus, we shall talk about this afterwards. Now, I bid you a good night and-"

"You are forgetting something, Albus," squeaked Filius Flitwick from his levitating chair so he could see over the table.

Albus looked startled for a moment before smiling at the diminutive charms professor, "what did I forget?"

"Little miss Granger, Albus, the _other _unexpected Slytherin," Filius explained in is high voice, "you do remember Daisy Winters from seven years ago?"

"Ah yes," the headmaster said as he stroked his beard, "miss Winters, she was a Slytherin, wasn't she?"

"Yes she _was,_" Snape drawled, "but her parents withdrew her from the school before the first year even ended. Desdemona Tripe nearly hexed her arm off within two months, Albus, for being a muggleborn in the wrong house. And if you remember, _this _is the year with quite a lot of sons and daughters of known Death Eaters, blood purists and some neutrals and I do _not _wish to spend my year mollycoddling some muggleborn girl. "

"Ah yes, you'll just have to watch her and make sure is well protected then," Albus said absentmindedly as he waved the issue away, not really listening to the potions master, "we'll discuss the particulars on a later date. Now, you are all excused. Minerva, Severus, please stay behind for a minute."

The remainder of the teachers hurriedly left the office, mumbling goodbyes and goodnights as they went. Once the door closed Albus left his seat to stand by the window overlooking the Forbidden Forest.

"I needed Harry in Gryffindor," the headmaster sighed sadly, "but what is done is done and the sorting hat refuses to give his reasons for sorting Harry in Slytherin. Severus, you'll watch out for the boy, right? Make sure he doesn't stray to the dark and have him connect with the more open minded families. The Weasleys, for example."

"I'll guide the boy to the best of my abilities," Severus gritted out through clenched teeth.

"And treat him well, Severus, you should really get over your pathetic feud with James," Minerva added as she sent him a seething look.

Severus glared right back, "I'll threat the Potter spawn the way I see fit. If you'd excuse me, I need to look after my students and make sure the girl hasn't been murdered yet," the potions master hissed before he walked out of the office briskly, pitch black robes billowing behind him.

"Minerva," Albus addressed the transfiguration professor with a sad smile, "try and get young mister Weasley to become friends with Harry would you? He _needs _connections to the light or the war may very well be lost."

Minerva crossed her arms in front of her chest as she frowned, "you believe he is back then?"

"I believe that he has never been gone in the first place."

"I'll _try, _Albus," Minerva said slowly as her frown morphed into a stern look which she directed at the headmaster, "but don't try to turn him into something he is not. He is a _child_, Albus, not one of your chess pieces. You shouldn't meddle with people's lives, I disapprove of your decision to leave him with the Dursleys and I disapprove of this." With that said she too exited the office, leaving Albus alone in the room.

Albus sighed as Minerva left the office and vanished the empty glass of firewhisky he was holding in his hand. If only they could see that what he was doing was for the greater good! If only they could understand that wild cards had no place at the complex game of chess he and Tom Riddle were playing. Harry Potter was a wild card now, instead of the white pawn he intended for the boy to be. A pawn that would reach the end of the board and transform into a queen and would defeat the black king. But for that the boy would need to be a Gryffindor! A hero! The perfect champion of the light! But now the boy was in Slytherin, where the dark reigned supreme, where he might just dabble in the dark arts and shatter all his carefully build plans. Right now the boy was a liability, a problem that needed to be resolved.

Albus summoned another glass of firewhisky and downed it in one go, the fiery liquid leaving a burning aftertaste in his mouth as he set the empty glass down on his desk.

If only Harry was sorted into Gryffindor. This new turn of events might just make them lose the war and condemn the world.

Albus sighed and lowered himself back in his ornate chair, new plans already forming in his head. He needed to know more about Harry Potter, was he light or was he dark? If he were to be the latter, he would need to be taken care of.

It was for the Greater Good, after all.

oOoOoOo

Harry found himself disliking one of his dorm mates. The pale, blonde haired boy with his expensive robes kept bothering him about why he would sit with a _mudblood _instead of with respectable purebloods.

"Draco," Harry began pleasantly as he sat down on the bed he claimed as his own, "if you don't shut up right now I'm going to break both of your arms."

It was Hermione's trick, she taught it to him before the whole magic mess came along, back when they were _Harry and Hermione _and they were _special_. But now, after being introduced to a whole _world _that was equally 'special', he felt _average_. Hermione told him that he wasn't a _freak_ but that he was special and now that was taken away from him. He was one of many, he and Hermione both were, and he didn't like it at all. He was another face, another name and another grey blob in a mass of grey blobs. He was famous for something he didn't even remember doing.

He would make a name for himself, he and Hermione, something other than 'The Boy Who Lived' and 'Mudblood'.

Harry grinned as he remembered the sorting hat's words, he _did _belong in Slytherin after all.

oOoOoOo

The glass figurine, a snake of course, that one of her roommates had brought with her exploded in a shower of glass.

"I'm _so _sorry," Hermione said in a rather flat voice, "I don't know what happened! One second I was listening to you insulting me and the other …" her voice trailed off as her eyes watched the girl's faces.

"It's fine," Pansy Parkinson hissed as she stared at her broken figurine before shooting a dark look at Hermione. The pug-faced girl waved her wand around and mumbled something as the figurine reassembled itself, the glass shards merging seamlessly as they once again formed a snake coiled to strike.

Hermione just smiled an innocent smile at the girl. Her approach might have been direct and Gryffindor-like but it had to be done, she needed to show them she was not to be trifled with. She wrote their behaviour off to the sudden appearance of a muggleborn in the Slytherin house, something that happened rarely, but knew that if it continued it would be plain bullying.

And Hermione Granger _loathed _bullies.

oOoOoOo

"This is Slytherin house, founded by Salazar Slytherin to accommodate those whose cunning and ambition outshines the rest," Severus Snape said the following morning as he stood in front of students from all seven years, "for seven years this will be your family but there will be _rules_. You do _not_, under _any _circumstance let a non-Slytherin student into the dormitory. Any arguments you have will be taken care of inside this very common room lest you want to face detention. And the last rule that will be followed is that you act as a Slytherin should. This may be too much asked for some people," Severus sent a heated glare at some of the students standing in the circle around him, "but we are not Gryffindors, we do _not _have random bouts of sheer_ idiocy_."

"That said, I am Severus Snape, head of Slytherin house. Any problems will be taken up to me if they are worthy of my attention, this doesnot include missing pets, miss Dales. I will not hold your hand throughout your school years nor am I a fan of blackmail," Severus shot a piercing look at a now pale-faced sixth-year boy, "if you follow the rules we will have no problems for the next seven years, if you shame the name of Slytherin however I'll have you scrubbing cauldrons until you graduate. Regardless of age, sex, money or family connections. You will find that I am _lenient _with any Slytherin student in my class, others are not. Do not regard my leniency as something that transfers to any Slytherin student out of class. Regardless of what other houses might think, I do assign detentions to any Slytherin student out of bounds, I am merely more discreet." With that said the potions master swept out of the common room without a second glance.

oOoOoOo

"How are your dorm mates?" Harry asked Hermione as they walked the corridors in search of the promised library.

"Infantile, petty and rather disappointing," Hermione said as she re-adjusted the sleeve of her robe, "though I have some hope that with time they will adjust their behaviour."

"Mine are the same but two or three seem decent, though their view on muggleborns is rather radical," Harry admitted as they passed a ghost and he quickly stopped, "excuse me sir, are we on the right way to the library?"

"Ah, how lovely to see such diligent students this early in the year!" the ghost, a rather fat man with a bald patch and wearing nondescript robes, exclaimed. "Yes, you are on the right way. Just follow this corridor."

"Thank you sir," Harry said as he and Hermione continued their trek.

"Radical, you say?" Hermione asked calmly once the ghost had floated away again, "how so?"

"I'd say that if this worsens it might get to the point of escalating into a full-blown war in a matter of years, especially after their brief encounter of power when fighting for Voldemort. Sooner or later they'd try it themselves without needing another psychopath to guide them," Harry admitted, "but I doubt that they would win. They might have the element of surprise and uncontrolled brutality but there are far more muggleborns, muggleborns that have access to modern technology and if somehow all the muggles got involved you can bet that they'd be dead sooner or later."

Hermione nodded with a far-away expression in her eyes that Harry recognised as her having one of her moments in which she would put that brilliant mind of hers to good use so he kept quiet.

They reached the library after a minute and were given a calculating glance from the thin woman Harry guessed to be the librarian before they were given access after which they went to sit on one of the chairs surround a table.

"Well then," Hermione said as her eyes focused on Harry again, "we better get started, we have quite a lot of catching up to do."

Harry shot her a puzzled look, not quite catching her train of thought.

"Because if we want to beat them at their own game we'll need a plan, books and information. But for now we'll just have to learn, we have years of magical knowledge to catch up to. This is a whole new world Harry, we need to map it out before we can conquer it."

oOoOoOo

_Dear mum and dad,_

_I'm writing you this during breakfast so it's kinda short, sorry for that._

_Did you know that Harry Potter is at Hogwarts this year? I told Ginny he was but she thought he'd stay at his castle with his Veela, tell her she owes me a knut! A girl on the train told me he brought his Veela and even Portia! Portia, mum! His __**unicorn**__! I was so excited, but I couldn't find them. I think they have a special room in the castle somewhere. He was sorted in Slytherin though, but I think he's there to defeat all the slimy Slytherins like he did with that coven of vampires in Norway, blending in to strike when they'd least expect it! I think I'll try to be friends with him, like you told me to, maybe he'll let me see Portia!_

_Oh, I was sorted into Gryffindor._

_Love,_

_Ron._

* * *

**Thank you for reading.**


	3. Chapter 3

**I am terribly sorry for taking this long to update, I was inexplicably tired for some days before being dragged across town for birthdays, outings and other stuff I did not ask for. Once again, my apologies, I hope the chapter lives up to your expectations. Also, please PM any questions you might have.**

**And, most importantly, a huge thanks for all the support I have recieved! Labyrinth has over 100 follows, much more than I expected, so thank you!**

* * *

**Labyrinth**

_The mind of a prodigy is a scary thing. Hermione Granger's however is downright _**_terrifying__._**  
_AU. Slytherin!Hermione, Slytherin!Harry_

_**Chapter Three**_

**Difference**

Hermione wondered why she and Harry actually bothered showing up for breakfast. If it wasn't for the prefect telling them, rather haughtily, that Slytherins attended all meals as a group they would have had more time exploring the library_._

She barely noticed the sneer on the prefect's face as he handed her a timetable which she immediately studied and noticed that their first class would be Potions followed by Defence Against the Dark Arts. She doubted there'd be a chance to slip into the library between the two classes and sighed resignedly.

"We'll go after Defence Against the Dark Arts," Harry said as he too stared at his timetable with a frown, "do you think the professors believe that stuff about me being some kind of hero?"

"Harry," Hermione sighed, "I think that if the redhead was anything to go by then everyone has a shrine dedicated to you in their bedroom. And if first appearances are to be believed I think some of the professors here will be similar, honestly, I am not terribly impressed. Our head of house seems intelligent enough, as did the woman at the sorting, but apart from that we'll just have to wait and see."

"Not every adult is an incompetent idiot," Harry remarked blankly before taking another bite of his toast.

"Just the ones we've met then," Hermione said primly as she shoved her now empty plate of breakfast away from her. She noticed some of their fellow first years given them subtle glances, no doubt listening to the conversation and Hermione rose her eyebrows at Pansy Parkinson. Hermione was remarkably pleased when the girl paled and quickly looked away, whispering something to the blond boy next to her in hushed tones.

It seemed her little show worked just as well as when she used it on Petunia Dursley, though the older woman's reaction had been a lot more entertaining when Hermione had shattered all her beloved tableware and icily mentioned that Harry might like a new bedroom.

oOoOoOo

Hermione leant back against the cold, stone walls of the hallway in the dungeons where they were supposed to wait for their teacher to appear. She rather liked the setting, it felt as if there were ancient secrets hidden in the very stones she was leaning against that would always remain out of your grasp no matter how hard you searched for them. This very hallway, she decided, was how the whole of Hogwarts should have been. Less cliché and more _powerful, ancient _and _magical_.

"Potter, I mean- err, Harry," a redhead wearing the Gryffindor insignia on his chest said awkwardly as he approached them hurriedly, ignoring the looks the Slytherins were giving him.

Harry looked up, slightly surprised, and frowned once he remembered the boy's face. It was _the _redhead, the groupie.

"Yes," Harry said aloofly, shooting a look at Hermione who nodded subtly.

"Did you- I mean, is," the boy gushed, his freckled face reddening up to his ears, "didyoubringPortiawithyou?"

Harry's frown deepened into a glare, "repeat that question slowly, please."

"Did you," the redhead breathed, "bring Portia with you?"

Harry was about to reply when Hermione stepped in, "he did bring her on the train, to say goodbye, but Portia doesn't handle crowds that well so she is back at the castle now."

"Oh," the redhead said slowly, "well, okay then. I'm Ron, Ron Weasley, by the way." With that said he left to his housemates who immediately started questioning him until a blonde girl loudly exclaimed: "I told you so! Portia _so _isn't here, you owe me a knut, Parvati!"

Harry frowned at Hermione, "why did you do that, you're encouraging them?"

"Yes, _Granger_," Draco sneered as he stepped towards the two, "why let the idiots believe the fabrications of some utter idiotic blood traitor?"

"So you _do _know that those stories are false?" Hermione said, slightly surprised.

"Of course we do," Daphne Greengrass said softly as she joined the conversation, her eyes regarding Hermione coldly, "we are above such _plebeian_ tales and we all know never to trust the writer, he has a reputation for writing … _peculiar_ articles."

Hermione hmm-ed thoughtfully and didn't answer until Draco and Daphne were out of earshot again.

"Well," Harry said, "why did you do it?"

"It's better to let them believe such outlandish rumours so they'll remember it when you do something _different_," Hermione whispered with a too-wide grin and shiny brown eyes, "because impressions stick better when they're truly unexpected. That, and it's better for your enemies to believe they know everything about you."

"I doubt they'd be worthy enemies," Harry commented dryly as he inclined his head towards Ron the redhead and his cohorts.

"I know," Hermione sighed sadly, "but the point remains."

oOoOoOo

"I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses...I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory and even put a stopper in death," Severus Snape said as he regarded the students sitting in front of him with a chilly glare, "yet I hope your incompetence won't be the death of your fellow students. The art of potions is a delicate one, a single misplaced ingredient can cause an unbalance with deadly results. And I most certainly won't be the one to scrape your bloody remains from the ceiling. There won't be any silly wand waving in this classroom, so put them away."

A few students had grown pale as Severus shot his glare at them before they hurriedly shoved their wands in their bags.

"Longbottom!" he suddenly barked as he faced the slightly trembling pudgy boy, "tell me what will I get if I add powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

The boy stammered a soft "I-I don't k-know, s-s-sir," as he looked down.

Severus sneered at the boy, causing him to fold into himself even more before he turned to another Gryffindor. "You, Weasley, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Ron looked rather pale as the potions master addressed him and seemed to think for a while before answering, "I dunno."

"Five points from Gryffindor for failure of producing a proper English sentence," Severus hissed as his black eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Potter!" Severus suddenly said as he turned to Harry in a whirl of black robes, his eyes narrowed to mere slits as he seemed to restrain himself from saying anything else by gritting his teeth. "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Harry stared at the potions master with a tiny smirk as he sat a little bit straighter in his chair before answering, "their names, professor, for they are the same plant."

"Very good Potter," Severus forced himself to say, schooling his features to mask his annoyance, "five points to Slytherin for being capable of opening a book and processing the information better than a Gryffindor. Now, who is capable of answering the previous questions?"

Hermione contemplated whether or not to raise her hand but decided to do it anyway, knowledge was bound to help her gain her housemates' trust far easier than appearing as dumb and uneducated as they thought her to be.

"Yes, miss Granger," Severus drawled as he addressed the bushy haired girl.

"Depending on the amount of powdered root you could either get a potion that induces mild sleepiness or with a heavier dose the result would be the Draught of the Living Death. A bezoar is undigested food and accidentally eaten hair left in a goat's stomach which takes on a grey colour and over time hardens until it resembles a stone, hence why people often think it _is _a stone."

"Very good, miss Granger, another five points to Slytherin," Severus commented with a slight inclination of his head to the girl in question before he turned to the Gryffindor side of the classroom, "why are you not writing this down?"

The sound if quills writing on parchment was all that was heard for a few moments as people hurried to write it all down. Hermione however was talking to Harry in hushed tones as she glanced at the potions professor occasionally.

Severus Snape was giving Harry a glare when he thought no one was looking, and Hermione did not like it one bit.

oOoOoOo

"D-d-def-f-f-ence a-g-g-gainst t-t-the d-d-dark a-arts is an imp-p-port-tant c-core s-s-subject bec-cause," professor Quirrel stuttered as he made awkward hand motions, his face sweaty and his overall appearance rather pitiful in Hermione's opinion.

"I heard he got traumatized after a vampire nearly drained him," Theodore Nott said blankly as his pale blue eyes stared vacantly ahead at the professor while his left hand was writing on his parchment in a neat, tiny script, "though my own opinion is that he was born pathetic."

Hermione regarded the brunette sitting on the table next to them, noting the sneer his partner, Draco Malfoy, shot them and giving him one of her own in return before focussing on Theodore. "I think I agree, though the vampire explains the smell of garlic."

"It does," Theodore stated as his eyes rested on Hermione's face for a brief moment before watching the professor once again. "The Notts have based their opinion on potential for centuries now," his voice remained even as he said this and his gaze remained aimed elsewhere.

"Err, thank you?" Hermione answered, not sure how to respond to the rather odd, apathetic boy's words.

"You are welcome," Theodore responded in his peculiarly even voice as he nodded in her direction, his eyes never leaving the professor while his hand kept on writing.

Hermione shrugged when she saw the questioning glance Harry sent her way when the conversation was over but for the remainder of the lesson her mind was elsewhere. _Potential for what_? The question echoed through her mind yet any answer she came up with felt inadequate, not quite right or downright _wrong. _It bothered her, not knowing the answer, and the urge to visit the library after the stuttering man's class intensified.

oOoOoOo

Hermione took out the parchment and quill as Harry sat down next to her. The library was rather empty, the only other occupants were a few Ravenclaws that shot them curious glances, or admiring ones at Harry, but refrained from approaching them. Their lunch was eaten in relative silence as their year mates were whispering amongst themselves and occasionally asking Theodore some questions. Their glares, sneers and _occasional _snipe didn't stop however but it seemed as if Theodore's comment meant something. It probably did, and Hermione was once again bothered by not knowing _what _it meant.

"I want to know Theodore Nott meant," Hermione said after a while as she wrote the words down on the parchment.

Harry looked pensive for a moment before saying, "why did professor Snape treat me differently than other Slytherins?"

Hermione nodded absentmindedly as she wrote his words down below hers, "why did the headmaster look angry at the sorting feast?"

"He did?"

Hermione nodded as Harry frowned, "right after you were sorted, it was gone after a second but it was there."

Harry's frown deepened and he was silent for a moment before adding another question, "why does _everyone _need a wand?"

"What is dark magic," Hermione said, quill flying over the parchment as she wrote everything down quickly, "and why is it classified as _dark_?"

"Why would a school have a room where students die a 'very painful death'?"

"How were you capable of supposedly surviving a spell that has never failed before, cast by a psychotic madman that was very proficient with it and _no one _questions your supposed 'vanquishing' of said madman at the mere age of one?"

They continued like that for some time, the list growing longer and longer as they kept adding questions until the parchment was filled with Hermione's slanted script.

"I think that's it," Harry said softly as he watched parchment.

Hermione nodded silently as she looked around her, once she was satisfied that there were no onlookers she picked up the parchment with her left hand and narrowed her eyes. Slowly, very slowly, did the parchment start smouldering as if someone had thrown it in a fireplace. After a while tiny pieces of blackened parchment and ash fell to the floor as Hermione watched it coolly.

oOoOoOo

"And, Severus?" Albus asked tiredly, leaning back in his chair with a sigh.

"From what I've seen the boy has the same blasted arrogance as his father," Severus said heatedly as he stood rigidly in front of the headmaster's desk.

"But," Albus interjected, "is he dark?"

"With all due respect, sir, it is too early to say so. I have seen him for just an hour and he does not _reek _of it like the Dark Lord does so I will need _much _more time to figure that out," the potions master said coolly.

"Good, good," Albus murmured, "now about the girl? Miss Granger? How is she?"

"From what I've seen, she is fine. Still breathing, no missing limbs nor crying overly much," Severus drawled, "she seems to show a good grasp of the theory from what I've seen today and if necessary I will introduce her to some books that might help .. keep herself alive."

"Make sure she does not go dark as well, Severus," the headmaster sighed, "or die. But Harry is your priority, we need him for the war."

Severus nodded curtly before walking out of the office briskly, his black robes once again billowing behind him as the door closed with a bang, causing Albus to wince at the sound.

* * *

**Thank you for reading.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Once again my apologies for taking rather long, I suddenly came down with an incredibly high fever and was bedridden for quite some time afterwards. I once again hope the chapter lives up to the expectations, I myself enjoyed writing the dialogue on the end.**

**And then, I thank all those that have reviewed, added me to their alerts and added me to their favourites! I'm truly very happy with the great response to my story and it urges me to write more.**

* * *

**Labyrinth**

_The mind of a prodigy is a scary thing. Hermione Granger's however is downright _**_terrifying_**_._  
_AU. Slytherin!Hermione, Slytherin!Harry_

_**Chapter Four**_

**Assembly**

Hermione sat in one of the soft, green chairs in the Slytherin common room whilst reading a book, her Defence Against the Dark Arts homework already laying in her trunk, finished. The book she was reading was _The art of the wand _written by Arcturius Rosier somewhere in the middle of the 15th century. The language was altered to fit the more modern English and it was incredibly interesting even though it had been her second time reading it.

_"The wand is what shapes the magic to its final structure, it focuses the intent and blends it with the magic before becoming essentials a spell desires."_

Hermione reread the sentence, the words etching themselves in her mind for later recall. It was the way she worked, her mind was her greatest and most reliable weapon. She did _not _have an eidetic memory though she certainly tried to have one. Two times. That was all she'd need in order to recall a book for months, if not years, on time. She only needed to have read it _two _times though she often read it even more just to be sure. Two times was good enough but she didn't aim for _good_, no, she aimed for _perfection_.

_"The vocalisation guides the blend of magic and intent into a spell. Though the words said when casting a spell are often thought to be unnecessary by filthy mudbloods they are of great importance. The wording is bound to the spell and needed in order for the spell to be cast correctly. 'Reducto' would not work if cast for the first time saying 'silencio' because the magic in the wand acknowledges certain words with certain spells. A wizard skilled enough with, say, 'reducto' would eventually be capable of casting it while saying 'silencio' if given enough exercise."_

oOoOoOo

"Potter!" Severus Snape called as he stalked up to Harry and Hermione the following morning as they were on their way to the library, "the headmaster wants you in his office."

"Why?" Harry asked as he stared up at the older man with a frown.

"He didn't elaborate, now _go _Potter," Severus snapped as he sneered at the boy, not bothering to hide his contempt for the boy that early in the morning.

"Where is his office, sir?" Harry asked as he remained still.

The potions master's sneer turned rather ugly as he pointed in the direction of one of Hogwarts' many staircases, "up there, second hall to the left."

Harry nodded and slowly started moving in the direction the professor pointed at, opposite to where he and Hermione had previously been going, and Hermione immediately made move to follow.

"Just mister Potter, miss Granger, you are not invited."

Hermione shot the man an unreadable look before nodding in his direction and giving Harry a pat on the shoulder, "I'll see you in the library when you're done."

Harry nodded and walked off again, this time on his own.

oOoOoOo

"Harry, my boy, how are you?" Albus Dumbledore asked amiably as he directed the boy to sit on the chair placed in front of his desk, "lemon drop?"

"No thank you, sir," Harry responded evenly as he stared at the offered bowl with a polite smile, "and I'm fine, sir."

Albus frowned for a second before popping one of the candies in his own mouth, "pity, no one ever wants one. Now, how are you liking Hogwarts this far?"

Harry frowned a little at the question, was the man for real? "With all due respect, sir, this is just my _second _day here." Harry paused for a moment and contemplated his words before talking again, "aside from that, it's fine. A bit cliché but fine."

Albus smiled brilliantly at the boy, his blue eyes twinkling madly as he mentally patted himself on the shoulder, "that's great to hear, my boy, simply great! Now, did you make any friends yet?"

"I did, sir, but if I don't leave now I'll be late for my next class. Charms, I believe," Harry said, lying through his teeth as he shot a charming smile at the headmaster as he rose from his seat.

"Of course Harry, you should go but just know that my door is always open for you if you need it," Albus said as he waved his wand and opened the door to his office so the boy could leave.

"Yes sir, thank you," Harry said as he exited the office and started is trek down the winding stairs again.

Once he was back in the empty hallway he waited for the stone gargoyle to slid shut before letting out a sigh, _the man really is a nutter, _he thought with a grim face, _and Hermione was right, aside from that there is something wrong with him._

Harry shrugged to himself as he tried to find his way back to the library, his charms class wasn't until after lunch and he and Hermione had a whole library to read.

oOoOoOo

Hermione looked up from her book when he heard Harry enter the library, his footsteps echoing through the silent room causing her and the odd Ravenclaw to look up.

"What did he want?" she enquired, turning towards him once he sat down in the chair next to her.

Harry grimaced, "he wanted to know whether or not I liked Hogwarts and if I had any friends yet."

Hermione frowned as she leant forward, resting her elbows on the table after she placed her book down on the polished wood. "Your answer?"

"Vaguely positive," Harry snorted, "though I'm not sure he bought it. He gives off this whole 'slightly demented but loveable grandfather' vibe but I'm not sure. He did seem _way _too familiar with me, and way too interested."

"The old coot shouldn't stick his nose in business that's not his," Hermione said delicately, "especially not business that's _mine_."

Harry just shrugged, "he's on the top of the food chain here-"

"For now," Hermione interrupted calmly, her voice chilly, "because we will _not _be simply _mediocre, _Harry, we are _better _than that, Albus Dumbledore is merely another hurdle to overcome."

"And I suppose you already have a plan for that as well?"

"You know me so well," Hermione said with a beatific grin as she picked up her book once again. They _would_ overcome the hurdle that is Albus Dumbledore, she vowed silently, because they were _Harry_ and _Hermione_, they were the top of the food chain before they were thrown into a different world. They had shown everyone who bullied, belittled, annoyed or opposed them that they were _superior _and they would do so here as well. And if Albus Dumbledore proved to be too difficult to be overcome they would simply crush him, because they _could_.

But for now they had research to do, their list wasn't made up for nothing and they _needed _to know more would they ever stand a chance at crushing Albus Dumbledore.

oOoOoOo

Daphne Greengrass sat regally in her chair as she regarded the other Slytherin first years seated around her in one of the unused classrooms in the dungeons. Her back was straight, her chin was raised and her hands folded primly in her lap as she waited for someone to speak.

"Nott," It was Draco Malfoy that spoke first, she noted absentmindedly, "explain your reasons for the comment to Potter and the mudblood."

Theodore Nott gave no inclination of having heard it or not, his eyes staring vacantly ahead for a moment before they came to rest on Draco for a second. "I do not need to explain my actions, they were necessary and thought through."

"I say it's a conspiracy," Blaise Zabini muttered darkly from his corner, his dark eyes surrounded by bags from not having slept much the past nights, "Potter and the mudblood have drawn Nott into their plan to milk him for his information and then dumping his body in the lake, making it look like an accident."

"That's something your mother would have done, Blaise, and I doubt the mudblood and Potter are coldblooded enough to do such a thing," Draco drawled calmly.

"My mother did _not _murder my stepfathers," Blaise said angrily, "they met _unfortunate _and _tragic _but most importantly _accidental _ends. And they _want _you to underestimate them and- _Merda!_" Blaise hissed when the door suddenly closed loudly and Gregory Goyle shuffled in, mumbling a "sorry," as he went to sit down as well.

"You _idiot_," Blaise hissed sharply as he glared at Gregory, "do _not _close doors that loudly, don't you have _manners_? If there was someone looking for us all they'd have to do was follow the sounds of your idiocy and find us here! You could get us all _killed!_"

"Oh shush," Millicent Bullstrode grumbled as she shot Blaise a dark look from her own chair, "your paranoia is not needed here."

"My paranoia might just one day save my life," Blaise shot back as he mirrored Millicent's dark look with one of his own, "and while you die tragic deaths I'll laugh from my safe corner and say 'I told you so'"

"The mudblood is coldblooded enough," Pansy Parkinson said hesitantly, "you should have seen her in our dorm, deliberately shattered my glass snake without as much as batting an eyelash."

"Potter threatened to break both my arms," Draco admitted, a frown on his pale face as he thought back on the event, "it bothers me and I plan to write to my father for advice."

His plans were met with nods and various, "I wrote my parents too," from a few of the others in the room. Only Theodore Nott remained quiet as he kept staring ahead with his odd, even stare.

"You didn't write your father?" Daphne asked curiously as she watched him with raised eyebrows.

Theodore slowly faced her and blinked, "my father's opinion has not been taken in account for a long time now." With that he continued staring at the wall again, leaving Daphne to sigh.

"Wasn't his father pardoned by the Ministry?" Daphne whispered to Pansy who sat next to her.

"He was," the pug-faced girl whispered back as she twirled a strand of black hair around her finger lazily, "but that's the problem, it means he chose a side."

"Oh," Daphne said, frowning before she realised what it meant, "_Oh!_ Yes, how silly of me, how could I forget."

Pansy merely rolled her eyes and straightened her back as she looked away from Daphne.

Blaise merely sat in his rather shady corner as he shot a glare at Daphne, "such forgetfulness might one day cost you your life. Potter is the reason I can't _sleep _in my own dorm! I have been carrying a bezoar with me ever since he has been sorted into Slytherin! He's the Boy Who Lived, who knows what he is capable of!" Blaise cried rather hysterically as his eyes shot across the room, his hands twitching over where he kept his wand.

"He's been raised by filthy _muggles_," Draco intervened smoothly, "I highly doubt he is _that _magically capable. And he hangs out with the _mudblood_, who's a _mudblood _no matter how scary or coldblooded she might seem. And aside from that I highly doubt he'd poison your food, Blaise. That snake of yours, Pansy, is merely an out-of-hand act of accidental magic and I might be overreacting with Potter's little scene. Maybe he knows magic, maybe he plans to fight us like common _muggles_, who knows. Hence why I plan to write my father, the whole situation bothers me."

"Your father better has an explanation for this or I'm writing my mother," Blaise grumbled angrily.

"Yes, and then we'll find Potter's corpse floating in the lake," Draco drawled with a smirk as he watched Blaise haughtily.

"If that means I can sleep then yes!"

"We are losing the topic of our discussion," Theodore said slowly as his eyes rested on each of them individually before once again going back to the spot on the wall.

"Ah yes," Daphne said quickly, "Theodore is right, we are straying from the reason we came here in the first place. Now, anyone any ideas on how to proceed?"

"I refuse to mingle with the mudblood," Draco stated calmly, "and I plan on waiting for my father's reply before taking further action and risk making mistakes."

Gregory and Vincent mumbled something along the lines of "we're with Draco," before staying silent again.

"I choose living," Blaise chimed in.

"The mudblood freaks me out," Pansy said, "and she's been with Potter _the whole day _save for when we went to bed, so I'm not doing anything."

"I'm not doing anything," Daphne said slowly, "until I know more."

"I see no reason for prolonged interactions at this moment," Theodore droned.

"I'm not going to suddenly make friends with the mudblood just to get to Potter," Millicent grumbled.

"Does everyone agree that a 'wait and see' approach is the best thing we can do?" Daphne called out.

"It's the best we can come up with that _doesn't _involve the mudblood or angering Potter into potentially breaking our arms," Pansy said snidely, "but yes, it's the best option."

Draco nodded and rose, the others standing up as well as they calmly exited the unused classroom. Draco vanished with Vincent and Gregory at his side while Pansy and Daphne silently chatted with each other. Blaise walked off in the wrong direction mumbling about conspiracies and Millicent hurried after him to get him back while Theodore slowly walked behind them all in his peculiar slow paced shuffle. The very first Slytherin First Year Meeting had been held, their parents would be proud of how they had handled themselves.

* * *

**Thank you for reading.**


	5. Interlude

**I'm sorry for taking so long but school has just started and I had to get back in the rhytm, so this one was late.**

**This is not a 'real' chapter but one done to tell all of you who are waiting for chapter 5 to know I am, in fact, still alive! It's more of an interlude of sorts, filled with unimportant things that might or might not have an influence on the plot. And for those spotting what can be perceived as a 'what are you doing, that is wrong!' in Olivander's scene, it is in fact planned and intentional. Once again, if you have any questions don't hesitate to pm me.**

**Also, thank you for the reviews, alerts and favourites, without the support I would have let you wait for longer while trying to write the _real _Chapter 5.**

**- Chapter five should be up in a week or two, just give me some time to get used to school again -**

* * *

**Labyrinth**

_The mind of a prodigy is a scary thing. Hermione Granger's however is downright _**_terrifying__._**  
_AU. Slytherin!Hermione, Slytherin!Harry_

**Interlude 'Scrapped Scenes'**

The sound of the doorbell rang through Privet Drive 4's living room and Petunia hurriedly dusted off her hands on her skirt before making her way over to the front door.

"Hello," she said when she opened the door only to pale very quickly as she realised just who was standing in front of her.

"Hello Mrs. Dursley," Hermione said innocently as she beamed up at the horse-faced woman, "I was just hoping to have a quick chat with you, if it's convenient."

"Yes, yes," Petunia mumbled obediently as she ushered the girl inside. Once they entered the living room Vernon choked on his cookie while Dudley suddenly screeched something unintelligible before darting up the stairs faster than the heavily obese boy should be able to.

"Now," Hermione said as she sat down on the armchair Dudley had just vacated, "I'm sure Harry just received a letter just like mine."

"You mean that-" Petunia started before a glare cut her off mid-sentence.

Hermione's face relaxed once the woman silenced and she smiled delicately at the older woman, "yes we were both invited to this _special _school. Now, I'm here to make some arrangements with you. First of all, you will drive Harry to my house two days from now so we can get our supplies together. Secondly, at Christmas Harry will receive the Lord of The Rings trilogy, all brand new of course, with a polite card attached. Third, he will only be here during the summer so you won't have to worry about _me _for a _long _time. But, if you don't honour our agreement I'll make your lives hell. Am I understood?"

Vernon and Petunia could only manage to nod shakily at the tiny girl sitting in front of them so delicately as the girl grinned back at them maliciously.

"Great!" Hermione said happily, "I'm _so _happy you are all such _wonderful _people!"

oOoOoOo

"I want it," Hermione stated coolly as she stared at the slightly old and possibly demented salesman in front of her.

"The wand didn't choose you!" he retorted angrily as he tried to snatch the object from Hermione's hand.

"It is a piece of wood with something stuffed inside it," Hermione said dryly, "I doubt it is conscious, I however am and I choose it."

"It did not react to you the way it should have!"

"It _blew up _your _roof_," Hermione pointed out while her parents and Harry watched, grins on their faces while her father just shook his head. "So it _did _react."

"The wand didn't focus your magic the way a wizard's _true _wand would focus it, so it is not your match and will only be a hinder-"

"I'm supposed to be a _witch_."

"Doesn't matter, the wand is not meant for you," Olivander said, a vein popping up near his temple as he tried to grab the wand again.

"Will it do magic?" Hermione asked calmly as she stared up at the man with a blank gaze, her face disturbingly stoic.

"Yes, but-"

"Then I'm taking it," Hermione said as she stepped back and threw a handful of galleons on the counter, "thank you very much!" The group then left the store leaving Olivander behind.

The old man watched them go, secretly glad that at least Harry Potter had found his matching wand, phoenix and holly, such an amazing coincidence.

oOoOoOo

"What're ye doin' 'ere, kiddos?" a raspy voice asked from a shady corner in Knockturn Alley, one of the very first shady corners the place had.

"None of your business," Hermione responded while Harry just glared at the person.

"Well ye jus' listen' ere, filthy mudblood or whadevver ya are," the person said as it rose from its previous hunch-backed position.

Hermione just grinned toothily before flicking her wand at the person happily, an explosion soon throwing the person against the wall of a nearby shop where he continued to lay motionlessly.

"You just had to do that, didn't you?" Harry asked dryly as he shot her a knowing look.

"Of course," Hermione responded lazily, twirling her wand around, "I can't seem to get this stupid stick to do _anything _but explosions. Good thing I like blowing things up."

"Whose whole idea was this again?" Harry muttered as he shot his surroundings a distrustful look.

"Yours," Hermione retorted with an innocent smile.

"Why again?" Harry asked with a roll of his eyes.

"To, quote, 'see how clichéd the rest of this place is', unquote."

"Well, it's cliché alright, it's as if sunlight doesn't shine here while stereotype villains lurk about. Bloody idiots-"

"Harry!" Hermione snapped as she pointed her wand at his nose, "language!"

"Fine, fine, don't blow me up, I'm sorry."

Hermione shot him a sunny smile before they walked back to Diagon Alley, leaving Knockturn behind mostly unexplored.

oOoOoOo

"Hello!" Hermione said as she smiled up at the unfamiliar woman, "I'm Hermione Granger, Harry's friend."

"The freak?" Petunia said haughtily as she readied herself to close the door, "then you're not welcome." She started to close the door only for it to get stuck, she looked down quickly to see the girl's foot stuck between the door and the doorpost.

"Oh, but I most certainly am," Hermione responded as she pushed to door back open and stepped inside, closing the door afterwards.

Petunia was ready to scream angrily as she followed the girl into the living room where the girl promptly sat down on the couch as if she owned the whole place.

"Lovely house you've got," Hermione commented as she watched the room with disinterested eyes.

"I want you to get out," Petunia snapped, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she glared at the girl, "the freak's friends aren't welcome here."

Hermione's eyes snapped up to Petunia's in an instant and the woman felt a shudder go up her spine as she quickly averted her eyes. Something the girl had scared her.

"What did you say?" Hermione said slowly, as if she didn't believe what Petunia just said.

"I said," Petunia repeated, "that your kind isn't welcome here-"

_CRASH_

All the pictures hanging on the wall suddenly fell down, the glass bouncing off the floor and coating the carpet with millions of tiny shards while the wooden frames cracked and broke.

"_What_," Hermione repeated angrily while standing up, "did you say?"

"I said-"

_CRASH_

All the silverware in the kitchen suddenly fell from the shelves in a sudden crash. Antiques, porcelain, family heirlooms, everything fell to the floor and broke.

"What did you say again?"

"You're welcome here anytime you want," Petunia said hurriedly, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes as she stared at the ruined room.

"Lovely," Hermione responded dryly, "and if you stop calling Harry a freak I'm sure we'll get along wonderfully."

* * *

**Thank you for reading.**


	6. Chapter 5

**Here it is, within the 2 week mark. **

**Once again I thank all those who've read, reviewed, favourited and/or added Labyrinth to their alerts! It is because of this support I keep on writing. On another note, Labyrinth is nearing the 100 review mark, something I consided _huge, _so I'm really happy!**

**Also, hidden in this chapter is a little detail that will prove important to the story's plot, it is tiny and relates to one of the little-used canon characters, kudos to whoever can spot it!**

* * *

**Labyrinth**

_The mind of a prodigy is a scary thing. Hermione Granger's however is downright _**_terrifying__._**  
_AU. Slytherin!Hermione, Slytherin!Harry_

**Chapter Five**

**Magic**

"Charms," the diminutive professor Flitwick rambled excitedly, "is the magic of _everything! _Anything and everything you can think of can be accomplished by a charm! There are charms for every situation you might find yourself in and they can be used in _hundreds _of different ways!"

Hermione listened eagerly, neatly writing down every word the professor said for future revision. The professor was, according to _Hogwarts: A History's _'current professors' chapter, a world renowned duellist that had been the world champion for sixteen consecutive years before retiring to teach Charms at Hogwarts. He was different than she expected him to be though, he was happy, excited and seemed rather silly, standing on his stack of books simply to look over his desk. He even fell from the stack when he came to Harry's name.

"A charm can save your life, wash your dishes and tie your shoelaces! Nothing _can't _be done by a charm and for seven years I will ensure that you too can experience the wonder that is charms!"

Hermione rose her hand, having laid down her quill in order to properly ask a question.

"Yes, err, miss Granger?"

"Is everything that is not categorized as transfiguration immediately a charm? If so, are there sub-categories to charms as there are to transfiguration or is the name 'charms' merely chosen as it covers _most _of the non-transfiguration spells? I have read that several of the spells we learn in Defence Against the Dark Arts are named charms, is this because they would otherwise fall in no-name limbo or because they are in fact charms?"

Professor Flitwick scratched his chin for a moment and her non-Slytherin classmates shot her bewildered looks while Harry just rose his eyebrows. Hermione looked back at him with a faintly amused expression before looking back at the professor.

"Well, miss Granger, that is a question I would normally have expected a second or third year student to ask but I shall answer it nevertheless," he squeaked happily as he flicked his wand once causing the word 'Charms' to appear floating in sky in a silvery script.

"Charms do, in fact, cover most of the non-transfiguration spells. About 85% of them if I am correct. The other 15% are Curses, or Dark Magic, as most people have taken to calling them, but Charms by far covers most of the spells in the world. It does have sub-categories such as 'Wards', 'Protective Charms', 'Offensive Charms' and some others and yes, most of the spells taught by professor Quirrel are charms," the words 'Wards, 'Protective Charms' and 'Offensive Charms' appeared with another flick of the professor's wand, floating beneath 'Charms' in the same silvery script.

"The reason I am not the one teaching them is because my subject covers _all _sorts of charms used in non-combat situations while professor Quirrel will teach you how to use them in a way so they can defend you. In fact, we may cover the same spells whereas my class will teach you the everyday use and professor Quirrel's will teach you the defensive use."

Professor Flitwick paused for a moment and shot Hermione a knowing look and a kind smile, "did this answer your question, miss Granger?"

"It did, thank you professor," Hermione said as her quill started scratching furiously across her parchment as she wrote down everything he had said.

"Now," Flitwick continued as he looked at the class with a smile, "we will practice the lighting charm!"

"The _lightning charm!_" a voice said excitedly from behind Hermione, "that's wicked!"

Hermione turned around, her face carefully blank, when she came face-to-face with the pale, freckled face of Ron the Redhead.

"Professor Flitwick said _lighting _charm, not _light__**n**__ing _charm," she said slowly, looking at him as if he was a petulant toddler.

Ron remained silent and the girl sitting next to him shot Hermione an uncertain, if not _slightly _hostile, look which Hermione ignored in favour of turning back to listen to the professor.

"The incantation is _Lumos _and it will generate a tiny sphere of light on the tip of your wand," Filius Flitwick demonstrated the spell slowly, pronouncing the words carefully and holding his wand still. "This charm requires no wand movement but is best done with the tip of your wand facing upwards rather downwards when first learning it," he explained, "now, you try!"

Hermione eagerly grasped her wand in her left hand and held it in a casual grip before murmuring the words "Lumos." And then, to her disappointment, nothing happened.

Hermione quickly shot a glance towards Harry and found him having similar misfortune with the charm, she then returned her attention to her wand and tried again. And again, and again.

"Stupid thing," Hermione spat and she _almost _felt sorry for taking the wand in the first place instead of waiting for the 'right' wand. Then, she took a deep breath and tightened her resolve, she was _Hermione Granger, _and she did _not _fail. Never, at anything.

"Lumos," she growled, guiding her magic to her fingers and _willing _it to work. She wanted the stupid light to appear on the tip of her wand, she wanted to show the blasted old man she could make this wand work for her, she wanted to _succeed _more than anything!

Then, just when the tingling in her fingers seemed to slowly ebb away, she saw a dim light flicker on the tip of her wand for a few seconds before it started burning brightly. Slowly, a beatific grin formed on Hermione's face and her brown eyes shone with glee as she stared at the success of her first, _real _spell. The tingling intensified as she pushed _more _of herself into her wand, slowly feeling the wood heat up beneath her fingers before she cut off the connection and the light vanished from view.

"Marvellous, miss Granger!" professor Flitwick's voice rose her from her own thoughts as he seemed to suddenly appear in front of her, clapping his hands enthusiastically. "A point to Slytherin for grasping the spell that quickly!"

Hermione merely frowned at his words, it had taken her more than _fifteen _minutes to get it right, and even that took effort. She glanced around her, seeing others producing either flickering lights or, in the redhead Ron's case, a thin trail of smoke slowly wafting upwards.

"Harry," she whispered softly as she leant towards him, "you need to _want _it, _badly._"

Harry shot her a thankful look before he turned to his own wand again, his face a carefully blank mask while his hand grasped his wand tightly, his muscles tense and shaking slightly from the effort. Then, after a few more seconds, his wand too lit up as did his face. He whispered a soft "thank you," to Hermione before Flitwick complimented him too and handed him a point as well.

At the end of the class only nine students, a Hufflepuff, three Ravenclaws and five Slytherins (Harry and Hermione included) had grasped the spell. The others were promised to have the next lesson to practice further and were asked to re-read the theory of the spell.

"Did your wand heat up when you did spell?" Hermione whispered to Harry once they had left the classroom.

Harry shook his head, "no, but it felt _odd_."

"That it did," Hermione agreed, frowning again, "but my wand felt heated. I'll try to find a book on it, maybe it is a side effect from not being the 'right' wand or any of that bogus."

Harry just nodded, they remained in a comfortable silence as they walked to their next class. Both just lost in their own thoughts and basking in the light of their success.

oOoOoOo

_Ancient Wandlore_, by Liander V. Gorriack was one book Hermione did not regret reading, it was an old, dusty tome with over 3780 pages and had detailed diagrams of wands. Unlike _The art of the wand _this book explained the wand itself and its reaction to magic rather than magic's reaction to a wand. The heavy book was charmed to make it lighter and smaller and according to the chart on in the inside of the cover it had been checked out by a student just 5 times ever since it was written in and delivered to the Hogwarts Library 1826. The last time being in 1942, it was a pity really. Hermione thought sadly, the book was a well of information and clearly written by a, most likely insane, genius.

_"An unfit wand either channels too little or too much magic, depending on the owner, and can have varying consequences. The most common is the case in which the core of the wand comes from a creature whose own magical potency was lower than the owner's (often the case with young unicorns, kappa's and nifflers). The wand will then try to accommodate the magic resulting in trying to expand its own magical potency, resulting in explosions, blasts of wild magic or the cracking of the wand itself. More uncommon are cases in which the magic of the owner uses the wood's capability of channelling magic and bypasses the core itself. This may result in, once again, cracking the wand's exterior, setting the wand aflame, more explosions, or nothing (depending on the magical capability of the owner). The wood' s resistance to magic however is great, as it magically denser than the core, and will require a greater effort from the owner. The type of wood also determines its reaction to being used instead of the core (see page 2223: 'Types of trees and their uses', page 12: 'An introduction to wands' or page 1590: 'Origin of ingredients and their connection to certain wizards through the ages'). Anyone idiotic enough to continue using an unfit wand should be warned that several spells will react unfavourably when cast with an unfit wand (for a complete list see: page 3010 'Wands and spells, how not to blow yourself up')."_

Hermione placed the book back on the table and glanced at her watch, it was almost time for lunch, she and Harry'd better go.

oOoOoOo

Ron Weasley watched the Boy Who Lived from afar, his mind waging an internal battle over whether or not to befriend the heroic boy. On one hand he was a _Slytherin _and on the other he was the boy he most likely owed his life to. It was a hard decision, he thought moodily, and one that was best solved over food.

So Ronald continued shoving food in his mouth at an ungodly pace, not noticing that several of his fellow Gryffindors slowly edged away from him or how Lavender Brown was slightly green around the edges just from _watching _him.

"Erm, Ronald," Parvati Patil said awkwardly, "you have some, err, egg .. on your face."

"Mhh hffve?" Ron asked, trying to talk with his mouth full before wiping his sleeve across his face, "ddfid mhh gwet 't?"

"Err," Parvati said slowly, looking at the yellowish stain and bits of reddish-orange yolk now covering his _whole _face rather than just his cheek, "yeah … you got it."

"Twnks, Prvwati," Ron said happily, oblivious to the food on his face as he continued shovelling his lunch in.

"You're welcome," Parvati said feebly, staring at Ron and then at his plate with a pale face before dashing towards the toilets, an equally pale Lavender hot on her heels.

oOoOoOo

"Plebeians," Draco snorted disdainfully as he glanced at the Gryffindor table, "can't even properly eat food."

Gregory Goyle, who was just eating his toast and marmalade, immediately started laughing, sending bits and pieces of his lunch landing on his plate an clothes.

"Goyle," Draco snapped, glaring at the big, lumpy boy with annoyance, "swallow first, then laugh."

"Yeah Greg," Vincent Crabbe said, his fingers grabbing another piece of bread and ripping it in pieces before eating it, "swall'w fwst, 'dn laugh!"

"Crabbe!" Draco snapped, "don't talk with your mouth full! And use a fork!"

Harry shot Hermione an amused look to which Hermione just rolled her eyes.

"Inbreeds," Hermione sniffed disdainfully, "can't even properly eat food."

"Indeed," Harry said pompously, "let us adjourn to the library, away from such _common _people, shall we?"

"We shall," Hermione responded in an equally stuck-up voice, "I simply cannot stand the stench of _inbreeds_."

Once out of the Great Hall they shot each other a grin before walking in the direction of the library.

"I dislike them," Hermione scowled after a moment of silence, "they act as if they are so much better than the others."

"Aren't we the same?" Harry asked.

"No. We don't act, Harry, we _are _better. They can't do _half _of the things we can, they didn't experience any of the things we've faced. And we'll show them, maybe not now, but Rome wasn't built in one day either."

Harry just nodded silently, both of them once again walking towards the library in silence.

oOoOoOo

"Filthy mudblood!" Pansy Parkinson raged in the Slytherin common room, briskly walking in circles with her wand grasped firmly in her hand, "how _dare _she insult us!"

Blaise Zabini watched her calmly, his face a mask of sheer boredom as his eyes occasionally strayed down to the book he was trying to read.

"She and Potter both! How _dare _they!" Pansy raised her hands to the air and let out an un lady-like screech before she resumed her pacing, "say something Blaise!"

"Ah, yes," Blaise said, dragging his eyes up to meet Pansy's again, "I could …"

"_NO!" _Pansy screeched as she twirled to face him again, "don't you dare!"

Blaise shrugged and shot her an ugly look when she wasn't watching, "stuck up little wretch," he hissed, "always mocking my plans. Never believing, well, you'll believe them when you're dead, Pansy, _dead_. And I won't even bother saving you."

"Did you say something, Blaise?" Pansy demanded hotly as she shot him a distrustful look.

"Nothing," he grumbled obediently as his eyes traced the words on the page once more. Oh how he'd laugh when they fell for Potter and the mudblood's little schemes. Oh how he'd laugh when he would stab the two of them in the back while they danced on his friends corpses. Because he _knew _what they were doing, their little conspiracy wasn't slipping past _his _guard, he was Blaise _Zabini_, and oh yes, he knew and he was _prepared_.

And if he wasn't, he'd owl his mum and _she'd _handle his problems.

oOoOoOo

Theodore Nott watched the happenings of his housemates with a blank look in his eyes, seemingly staring at a painting of three snakes basking in the sun. He knew that Millicent was waiting for _him _to make the first move and that Daphne was testing the waters and waited for her parents to dictate her next plan of action. He didn't know Draco's plan, no one ever knew _exactly _what a Malfoy planned, and Blaise would do whatever would help him out in the end. Vincent and Gregory however remained oblivious, unimportant and mindless side figures not even worth the air in the room.

Theodore blinked, suddenly remembering that such a thing was needed lest he hurt his eyes, and then resumed staring at the wall.

He also knew Pansy would only do something after the others did to ensure she joined the group with the most politically powerful people. He also knew that whatever he did would be in the best interest of the house of Nott, as it was done for ages.

He blinked again, thankfully remembering to do so before his eyes started tingling again. It was a good thing he remembered to do so, staring was a particularly hard thing to do. He did not quite understand how people could 'Gaze at a particular object or person for a prolonged time' without blinking.

He then resumed his train of thoughts, he himself was partial to Potter and Granger. They were uncertainties, things he did not know each and every secret of, things he could not anticipate or look up in his personal library. He did not have a detailed guide to 'Dealing with Grangers' or 'Handling unkillable halfbloods'. He did, however, have one named 'Managing Malfoys' and 'Going with Greengrasses' in the Nott family library. Their writers, his family, were no Gilderoy Lockhart, he mused, but they were good.

"Theodore," Daphne shortly tapped his shoulder, pulling him from his thoughts and reminding him to blink again.

"Daphne," Theodore acknowledged her with a nod.

"Dinner will be served shortly, I saw you staring and deemed it necessary to remind you."

"Ah yes, the reminder is most welcome. You have my gratitude," Theodore said, watching Daphne go.

Really, it was a good thing she reminded him of dinner, staring often caused him to forget the time. It was such a hard thing, he mused again, I need more practice.

* * *

**Thank you for reading.**


	7. Chapter 6

**Terribly sorry for the delay, I fear school took more time than usual and I have been ill again for some time too. I want to thank everyone for once again reviewing, favouriting or adding me to their alerts. Such things make me feel bad about not-updating for a while and make work as fast as I can. Also, I do not enjoy _teribly _bashing characters but the arguement below was needed.**

* * *

**Labyrinth**

_The mind of a prodigy is a scary thing. Hermione Granger's however is downright__terrifying__._  
_AU. Slytherin!Hermione, Slytherin!Harry_

**Chapter Six**

**Truth**

Hermione really didn't like the Slytherin common room. It wasn't because of the décor, though she favoured more earthly colours the silver and green of the couches and walls were acceptable. It wasn't the furniture either, everything was carefully placed and matched the theme of the dungeon. No, it were the people _inside _the common room. Where her own year had decided to remain aloof for after their comments on the first day the _other _years were rude. And detestable. And dumb. Their comments regarding her non-magical heritage were downright unimaginative and were frankly starting to get on her nerves. It didn't register to them that she had no say whatsoever in her parentage, she loved them very much though, mind you. Nor did they see how their careful inbreeding was leading them towards the more grotesque illnesses and disorders mankind knew existed.

Hermione shot another distasteful look towards the group of sixth-years sitting on the sofa and huffed, leaving the chilly dungeons behind as she went to further explore the castle.

She feared that if _this _was the best and brightest the whole magical community had to offer their soon _wouldn't _be any community to speak off. Not because they would be ruining it themselves, no, but because _she _would ruin it for them. If the best they had to offer were short-sighted _bullies _then Hermione would have to strike hard and fast.

OoOoOoOoO

_Dear mum and dad,_

_Hogwarts is turning out to be the both living up to its expectations and horribly letting me down. Magic is wonderful, dare I say __**magical **__for the sake of bad puns and I find the castle to be filled with unexplored possibilities. I have been sorted into Slytherin, house of the ambitious, cunning and bigoted. My housemates are firm believers in the Nazi-esque regime of their precious 'Dark Lord' who wants to eradicate the world of 'muggleborns' like me and think I deserve no place in their magical community, or just life in general._

_Don't worry, they'll get what they're due and are mainly just infantile bullies. There is no reason to withdraw me or anything._

_Hogwarts is letting me down in the most basic things any school should have. While I'm honoured that a singing hat has sorted me into Slytherin I find it bizarre a school that is renowned to be the best in magical Europe would even support such blatant bigotry and purposefully wedge a rift between its students. I also find the teacher-student ratio to be way too big and according to Hogwarts: A History a teacher teaches his or her subject to all seven years. There is no teacher specifically for the first and second years like you would expect mundane schools to have._

_The food is great though and Harry and I are quite fond of the library already. The little we have seen of the castle is quite impressive and there is so much history surrounding this place that it makes me itch to learn more of it._

_On a side note, Harry says 'hi'._

_Love,_

_Hermione._

OoOoOoOoO

_Mr and Mrs Dursley,_

_This may be a bit early but Harry will be spending the Christmas holiday with me again this year and he would most certainly enjoy some new books along with a nice green scarf. But I'm sure you already thought of that yourself._

_Also, to be frank, I wouldn't mind some new writing supplies and a book myself. Christmas is the holiday of giving isn't it? My gift this year will be a me-free Christmas holiday and the fact I'm not reporting you to Social Services and having you locked up._

_Hermione Granger._

OoOoOoOoO

Sitting in the library amidst the dusty tomes and the smell of paper (or, in this case, parchment) was Hermione's favourite way to start, and end, a day. That is until she spotted the Weasley boy sitting on _her _chair at _her _table in _her _corner of the library.

"Hullo," the redhead mumbled awkwardly as he stood up once she neared the table, flinching when he saw her annoyed expression.

"Good afternoon," Hermione responded neutrally, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as the gangly boy fumbled with his hands.

"Ehh," he said, "could you give this to Harry Potter and get him to _please _sign it? And, if you can, could you convince his harem to sign it too?"

Hermione counted to ten in her head, staring at the piece of parchment Ron the Redhead held out in his slightly shaking hands before she sighed. "Go do it yourself," she answered, "you're the Gryffindor. Bravery and all that, Harry doesn't bite as far as I know."

"Ye-eees," Ron mumbled, drawing out the 'yes', "but-"

"What?" Hermione snapped, not a big fan of excuses, or the boy himself.

"He'sscaryandsoareyou," he gushed, his face flushing red as he stared at the floor, "andyou'reslytherinsandslimysnakesar eeviland-"

"Are you dead?"

"What?" Ron exclaimed, "no!"

"Bleeding then? Experiencing symptoms often associated with poison? Do you have an inexplicable urge to kill yourself? Are you on fire, or feeling lightheaded, or are you perhaps experiencing the feel of your skin peeling itself of your bones?" Hermione asked, voice angry as she glared at the taller boy and her fists clenched.

"N-no?" the redhead stuttered, not quite sure what to make of her rather morbid string of sentences.

"Then _why_, for the sake of all that's sane, do you think I am _evil_?" Hermione spat, "if all I do is talk to you?"

"Well, you're a Slytherin!" Ron said smartly, "and you're mean!"

Hermione breathed in deeply, forcing herself not to jump the boy and show him _exactly _how mean she could be when agitated. Instead she just narrowed her eyes even further and gritted her teeth.

"Does that make Harry evil then?"

"No, 'cause he's the Boy-Who-Lived and _everyone _knows he can't be evil, he even slayed a fifteen-headed lion in Russia! I thought he was though, at first, but he's in Slytherin to off all of you slimy prats," Ron said smugly, his courage catching up with him.

"Then being a Gryffindor makes you dumb." Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes, _of course _there were lions in Russia.

Ronald's face flushed swiftly, the smug expression wiped off his face in a second and the blush creeping up to the roots of his hair and Hermione almost envisioned steam coming out of his ears.

"That's, that's .. _prejudice_!" he bellowed, earning himself a warning glance from the librarian as he glared at Hermione.

"And thinking that all Slytherins are evil isn't prejudice then?" Hermione asked, hoping he _finally _got the message.

"No," Ron gritted out from between clenched teeth, "because they are. All my brothers say so, you're all a bunch of stuck-up purebloods that all follow You-Know-Who."

"I'm a muggleborn."

"And you're sorted into Slytherin?!" Another glance from the librarian shut him up and Hermione wondered absentmindedly how long he would be allowed to remain in the library.

"Yes, but you know that," Hermione hissed, scrunching up her nose in distaste and wishing Harry was with her to see the redhead.

"That means you're even worse!" he said, his voice just urgent instead of earsplittingly loud as he glanced around himself to see if the librarian heard, "you're the next dark lord! Or lady! You're meant to be _evil!_"

That's when Hermione lashed out with the only thing that wouldn't get her into trouble, words.

"And you're meant to be the same lowly neanderthal as your ancestors were, a shame to all that's human! I feel for all those that are forced breathe in the same air as you and are forced to endure your stench. I have seen monkeys, Ronald Weasley, _monkeys _with more common sense than you. And don't you dare, you dumb _idiot_, to assume I am meant for _evil_! Believe in your prejudice for all I care, one day you'll see that what I do is _right_," Hermione spat, her lips turned back in an impressive sneer before she turned on her heel and marched out of the library.

Ronald just watched her go, deciding to stay far, _far _away from the unstable, and _evil_, muggleborn girl in the future.

OoOoOoOoO

Harry was walking through the long corridors of Hogwarts on his own, silently taking in everything that had happened in the past few days on his own.

First came that he still had Hermione, for all that he knew the hat would have put her in Ravenclaw or decided he was more a Hufflepuff than anything else. But they were together, which was good, and would be for the next seven years. Ever since he first met her she was his constant, he could always count on her to stand beside him when the situation called for it and generally let her take the lead.

Then there was his 'house', his so called 'family' for while he was at Hogwarts. Harry snorted, he never liked the family he had and had quite a few doubts that his new one would prove to be any better, in fact, they already proved themselves to be worse. He could live with being called a freak or whatnot, but you _didn't _call Hermione _anything_. You just didn't, not if you wanted your body intact, because unlike him she _hated _being called names. He once asked and she just said that she 'took care of the problem' in an airy voice and with a smile.

He knew it hurt her, or got her angry, and he didn't like it. She was his first, and currently only friend and maybe he'd make more here at Hogwarts, not that he counted on that too much, but she was there first and that _meant _something. And she was strong, like a mountain, but she couldn't handle _everything_.

Then there was _magic, _and the word itself made him giddy. Magic was, in a bastardized version of what Flitwick said, _everything_. He could do _anything _and _everything _and it made him feel strong, powerful and _in control_. The wands bothered him though, why use one if you could do the same without? Why depend on a crutch if you could walk just fine without? But it didn't matter, he was learning things he and Hermione could never have imagined in their wildest dreams. Though he didn't see the purpose in changing matchsticks into needles, why bother with everything if you could just buy a few hundred for a pound or two? And then there was so much more,

And then there was the _money_. Pure, unaltered _gold_. A whole vault full of it. He had asked the goblin, Grubby or Grobloop op something, if that was all and was quite disappointed when the humanoid nodded, sharp teeth glittering in the dim light. But even when finding out his 'trust vault' was just a silly name for a 'vault for underage wizards' and didn't necessarily mean 'just a fraction of your wealth' he was still content. After a few more questions and a simple plan that revolved around finding a steady source of income after Hogwarts and relying on magic for most mundane things and not buying anything but bare necessities he could be _rich _(instead of just wealthy) within three decades.

It did mean that quite a lot of things he saw in the Madam Malkins catalogue would be out of his reach for quite some time. But then again, he didn't particularly fancy socks made out unicorn ear-hair or a hat adorned with Grindylow teeth.

OoOoOoOoO

An abandoned classroom served as Hermione and Harry's 'secret lair' because more and more Ravenclaws were frequenting the library. It wasn't cushy, or mysterious nor did it have an armoury, duelling ring or anything else they wouldn't have minded it having. It was a classroom, just that, a whole bunch of chairs and tables strewn around and one blackboard at the end of the room.

"Ronald Weasley is an idiot," Hermione said vehemently as she paced through the room that evening, "the biggest I've ever met."

Harry watched her carefully, "did he insult you? Call you a _mudblood _or anything else denigrating? _I _could?" His voice trailed off at the end, repeating the one of the very first words Hermione had once said to him.

She shook her head, bushy curls flying around her in a mess of brown, "don't bother. He isn't worth the effort, he just doesn't see the light. But he will."

Harry nodded silently, "do you want to talk about it?" He offered resting his elbows on the slightly dusty table in front of him.

"He thinks I'm _evil_," she hissed, "but I'm _not_! He's just as twisted as everyone else here, believing in prejudice and _presumptions_! I bet that Voldemort went evil because everyone expected him to. _Hogwarts: A History_ said that Grindelwald was at Hogwarts for a two-month exchange programme between Durmstrang and Hogwarts, he was sorted into _Hufflepuff! _Simply because he wanted people's loyalty to him and his cause, and he's evil and a non-Slytherin! And that stupid excuse for humanity thinks I'm 'super-evil' because that regardless of my parents I'm sorted into Slytherin! And when I asked about you he said you were such a paragon of light that you were incapable of ever being corrupted by me and my evilness."

"Did he really say it like that?" Harry asked, trying to cheer her up.

"Well," Hermione said, "he said something stupid about lions in Russia and his choice of words was poor but that's what he _wanted _to say had he been of average intelligence."

Harry grinned, "there you have it. He's just dumb, he'll come around."

"He'd better," Hermione murmured, "or I swear I'll do something evil to him. But you're right, time is precious and shouldn't be wasted on that stupid excuse for a human. We have a list to finish, don't we?"

Hermione grinned and Harry smiled back, they had stuff to do and arguing with redheads wasn't on that list.

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**Thank you for reading.**


	8. Chapter 7

**Once again I apologize for the delay, school got the best of me once again. I can say that while I am busy with school that it shows in my grades, I am going _really _good.**

**Also, I received some critique on my portrayal of certain characters, I apologize if I came of as I were portraying them unfairly. I will try to improve on that, that said I present chapter seven, written in one day of 'Must. Write. Chapter'.**

* * *

**Labyrinth**

_The mind of a prodigy is a scary thing. Hermione Granger's however is downright__terrifying__._  
_AU. Slytherin!Hermione, Slytherin!Harry_

**Chapter Seven**

**Broken**

In the end it took Hermione another twenty-seven days for the heated sensation she felt when casting spells to turn into the feeling of pouring boiling water over your hand. After that it took just two days for her wand to _explode_ during transfiguration.

"_Miss Granger!_" came professor McGonagall's concerned voice over the intake of breaths that both the Hufflepuff and Slytherin side of the class seemed to make while _burning ashes _seemed to float down to the floor.

The professor hurriedly made her way over to her and Harry's table, "miss Granger, are you quite alright?"

For a few moments all Hermione could do was blink owlishly at the burning remains of her wand before mumbling, "I _blew up _my wand. Is that even _possible_?"

Then she took a look at her left hand and her face twisted in one of shock, a good portion of her sleeve had been burned off (or exploded, she quite frankly didn't know) and … _she couldn't feel her hand! _Her hand was a mix of pink-reddish marks that faded somewhere around her elbow above which were the charred remains of what once was her sleeve.

"Oh dear," the professor said softly, "don't you worry miss Granger, Madam Pomfrey can mend this in a jiffy. I'll escort you to the hospital wing."

The stern-faced professor then turned to the now-silent remainder off the class, "for the next class I want an one-foot essay on the correct way to transfigure metals into wood that can be lit on fire as easily as normal wood. You can go now, I will escort miss Granger to the hospital wing."

"Can I come?" Harry asked professor McGonagall politely, staring up at her with pleading green eyes and the professor found herself nodding.

"Of course, mister Potter, burns are quite easy to fix so it shouldn't take long. Now, off we go."

They hastily walked through the people milling about the doors and then entered the relatively empty hallway. In the end the walk to the hospital wing was rather uneventful, they passed several Slytherins on their way who merely gave them a sneer which Hermione returned with vigour. Harry was silent, his eyes straying to her burnt hands every now and then before he set them straight ahead again.

"I'm fine, Harry," Hermione chastised him with a nudge of her good arm, "I can't even _feel _anything so don't worry. It actually looks funny, doesn't it?"

Harry mumbled something, sending her a bemused glance before grumbling, "I'm glad _you _see the humour in it."

"Mister Potter," the professor intervened, "accidents like these happen _weekly_. Madam Pomfrey can fix almost anything short of dismembered limbs and only for particularly nasty things does she need help from St. Mungo's. But, mister Potter, such things don't happen at Hogwarts unless you try something particularly stupid as jumping from a broom and landing onto the Whomping Willow."

"Such a thing happened?" Harry pondered while Hermione merely looked pensive.

"Oh yes, the poor girl needed to have quite a few bones in her legs regrown as they were in a particularly bad shape and the healers took quite some time fixing her face. I believe she went to work with Abraxan horses after her graduation though she considered being a Quidditch professional as well."

"Excuse me professor, but you can _regrow _bones?" Hermione said, "and _fixing _her face? You don't need hours of reconstructive surgeries and face the possibilities of never being able to walk again with those legs ? Or for that matter, how come she isn't dead?"

Professor McGonagall merely smiled and said, "magic."

"But that's not an excuse nor an explanation," Harry intervened with a frown on his face, "it's magic, I get that much, but _how_?"

Minerva's smile grew wider and decidedly cat-like as she narrowed her eyes in mirth, "oh mister Potter, _that's _why you're at Hogwarts isn't it? To learn the _how's _of magic. If you can wait until third year you can take Healing as an extracurricular subject, it is very basic but a good foundation nevertheless for any later studies on healing and a great help for getting an internship in St. Mungo's. Madam Pomfrey teaches the class herself every week and often shares that duty with professor Snape whose mastery of potions makes him the school's supplier of healing draughts."

"We have a class on _healing_?" Hermione whispered with raised eyebrows, "the books don't mention such a class. And isn't healing supposed to be very hard and potentially life threatening, that's what the books said."

"We do, as well as Ghoul Studies, Earth Magic and Magical Theory and some others. They are mostly thought by your current professors though we have a curse-breaker flooing in for Ancient Studies when it is time for their practical lessons. They are not as well-known as the electives because they are extracurricular, meaning you take them on above your normal workload and they cannot be chosen as an elective. You don't get to take OWLs or NEWTs for them either, your professor decides if you can advance to the next year and during the seventh year you have the option to floo to Amsterdam International Academy of Magic to take your IWPEs, the International Wizarding Proficiency Exams for short."

Minerva cast a warning look at the girl after that, "but that doesn't mean you should start experimenting. The reason healing is discouraged to try on your own is because, like all practical magic, it poses a danger. Given some guidance even the simplest of minds can learn healing, it is considered normal for a witch or wizard to at least be capable of healing minor injuries and fixing simple broken bones. Only serious injuries and magical maladies require professional help."

"Does that mean-" Hermione started enthusiastically before she was shushed by the professor.

"We're here now, go on in."

Hermione and Harry quickly entered the hospital wing where a short, motherly matron quickly hurried towards them, her wand grasped firmly in her hands and a worried frown on her face. Once her eyes saw Hermione's arm the woman let out a sigh.

"Oh dearies," madam Pomfrey said softly as she ushered Hermione to one of the empty beds lining up against the walls, "what happened, dear?"

"I blew up my wand," Hermione recounted with a toothy smile, "completely on accident, of course, and now I can't feel my arm, it doesn't really hurt."

Madam Pomfrey shot Hermione a reassuring smile, "completely normal dear. In cases like this where the injury is mostly a surprise, or an explosion, your magic and the shock numb the pain. Otherwise you would be a screaming mess now, wouldn't you?"

"Does that mean wizards feel pain less than, err, muggles?" Harry asked with another frown, "because wouldn't that be a little too much? We can already do magic, live longer, do things that break all laws and then feel less pain?"

Madam Pomfrey's smile grew even wider as she beamed at Harry before turning back to inspect Hermione's burns, "that's what you would think. Magic is brilliant, we can right so many wrongs and heal so many injuries that it might seem like the perfect solution to everything but with magic comes a whole list of new troubles. The dragon pox can't kill muggles but is very dangerous to us, as is casting magic in general. Didn't professor Flitwick give the example of the wizard that mispronounced a spell and summoned a buffalo onto his chest? Even magic can't save you if that happens, but don't you worry dears, such things don't happen here at Hogwarts."

Harry shot Hermione a faintly distressed look at which she shrugged with her good arm, landing on top of the Whomping Willow sounded pretty bad to them.

Madam Pomfrey then directed her attention to Hermione's arm and with a wave from her wand and a short hum under hear breath she summoned a jar with a soft-pink paste inside. Once the lid was off though the smell of rotten eggs, cabbage and mud assaulted their noses and Hermione shot it a distrusting glance.

Madam Pomfrey, either oblivious to the smell or accustomed to it, gently spread it over the burn with steady fingers, "and if it did, we have a stable floo-connection to Saint Mungo's, but that one is only used in real emergencies. And burns like these are very basic, even though it hurts, so you dearies don't have to worry. I'll have you back up and running in a minute now, though I fear you'll need a trip back to Olivander now your wand is gone."

"I guess so," Hermione agreed with a nod, "but is magic truly that dangerous? Wouldn't that negate the whole 'magical' aspect of having something _extra_?"

"Yes," Harry piped in, "because, apart from a longer life span, what does it offer us besides potential accidents with spellcasting?"

Madam Pomfrey smiled at them as she banished the jar with a flick-swish of her wand, "you're misunderstanding me, dearies, magic is as dangerous as anything else. Say, we could fly? Yes? Instead of magic every wizard and witch could _only _fly. That itself poses dangers, you could get caught in thunderstorms, die from lack of oxygen or get hit by muggle aeroplanes."

"Airplanes," Harry and Hermione corrected in tandem, "not aeroplanes."

"My bad," Madam Pomfrey apologized, "but do you get my point? Magic can do miracles, not many and not big ones, but it comes with its own drawbacks. Just like being capable of flying. _Incendio _can save your life if you need to make a fire, but you can set yourself on fire if you as much as point your wand at the wrong thing, like your sleeve."

Hermione guffawed and Harry smirked, "I take it that happened?"

"Still does," Madam Pomfrey said conspiringly, "more often than you'd think. Now, off you go, you're all done now. Don't strain your arm for a while and I suggest you seek out professor Snape and have him take you to Diagon Alley to buy you another wand."

Hermione nodded gratefully, "thank you, Madam Pomfrey."

Then she slid off the bed and left the Hospital Wing, Harry at her side as Madam Pomfrey watched them go with a fond smile.

OoOoOoOoO

"Miss Granger," professor Snape drawled icily as he stared at the two first-years standing in front of his quarters, which were conveniently located near the Slytherin common room so his little snakes could find him were there ever an emergency, "and mister Potter. Such a surprise, what can I do for you?"

"I blew up my wand, professor Snape," Hermione admitted giddily, still finding it rather humorous, "and Madam Pomfrey said I'd have to go to you in order to get a new one."

Severus's eyes narrowed, the little chit _blew up _her _wand_. Of all the-, he pinched the bridge of his nose as he glanced at Harry, "and you suppose I have a crate of wands in my quarters ready to be handed out to students the moment they ask for one?"

"No," Hermione said, now slightly irritated, "but she said you could accompany me to Diagon Alley, because I'm a student and you are responsible for me, _sir_."

Severus merely inclined his head, "Madam Pomfrey is right though, miss Granger, for without a wand you cannot perform practical magic and I do not condone my Slytherins slacking off, be it intentional or accidental. Now, mister Potter, did you by any chance blow up your wand as well?"

"No sir," Harry responded with a toothy, if not slightly fake, grin, "I was wondering if I could accompany Hermione when you leave to get her a new wand?"

The potion's master sighed, James Potter's spawn got on his nerves but he still had an act to perform and a he disliked performing inadequately. "Do you _intent _to blow up your wand, mister Potter?"

"No sir," Harry said, not getting it.

"Then you have no reason to accompany us, tell the professor of your next class where miss Granger is. I have today's afternoon off, you couldn't have picked a better moment to have your wand explode, miss Granger, I applaud your foresight. Now, off we go, I take it you haven't travelled by floo?"

Harry left, but not before Hermione gave him a reassuring glance before she vanished in the professor's room to use his fireplace.

OoOoOoOoO

"Ah, miss Granger," Olivander said patiently as he saw the bushy-haired girl enter his store for the second time, "and mister Snape, I wish I could say it was a surprise but really, miss Granger, I've been expecting your return since you left with a wand so obviously unsuited to you. Fir and a phoenix feather, twelve inches, a waste of a perfectly fine wand, miss Granger, I trust you understand that?"

"Yes sir," Hermione answered immediately, but her heart wasn't in it. She really didn't mind _wasting _that wand because it wasn't wasted, she used it perfectly fine for the time it was hers, even if she didn't _like _it.

"Good," Olivander said, not at all convinced, "now. Let's get you a _proper _match, shall we?"

And that they did, stacks of boxes were pulled from their hiding places in the enormous, ceiling-high shelves as Olivander sought for a proper match. Professor Snape had long since transfigured himself a chair and was rather impassively watching Hermione get matched to a wand with bored eyes.

"Ah, vine, 10¾ inches and a core of a dragon heartstring, give it a wave will you?"

And Hermione did, the wand feeling comfortably in her wand as it produced a few smoky birds that flew around for a moment before dispersing.

"No explosions, or even sparkles?" Hermione asked, rather dejectedly.

Olivander shrugged, "wands express themselves differently. One boy accidentally summoned his cat, another turned the counter into chocolate."

Hermione handed him the appropriate amount of galleons, professor Snape had her floo to her dorm room to get her money because he refused to pay for her, before they left the shop.

"I trust I will not be required to do this anytime soon, miss Granger?" professor Snape asked with a raised eyebrow.

Hermione shook her head, she didn't want to waste any more money on a wand she didn't even really _want _in the first place.

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**Thank you for reading.**


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